The wind blows and blows and blows, like an air river, rushing through the sky. If you sit in it for long enough, it will start to chip away at your skin, leaving just your bones for the birds to consume. The land of the wind has already chipped away at my face. My nose is raw like I’ve been blowing it for days. An open sore materialized out of nowhere, and the only thing I can attribute it to is the dryness and the wind. How do people live through this every year, watching the dust collect what few aspirations they have, and funnel them into the sky? Yet humans have been here for thousands of years (maybe even 35,000 years according to the archaeologist ranger we met in Hueco Tanks).
The Land of the Wind
We made it to Hueco Tanks State Park about 4 days and 1500-miles into our journey from the east coast. The park is a winter crag for boulder lovers. They carry their crash pads up through the park’s rock features, throwing themselves at problem after problem. And when they’re tired, they take their crash pads back to the car to sleep right on top of them for the night. It’s dirtbag city.
When Tommy and I decide to rope up for a few routes in the park, the wind unleashes itself in full force. We go from experiencing 10mph winds to gusts of 40mph. Our hats fly off of our heads, tumbling through the dirt like some sort of animal. And then there are the routes, themselves. The first bolt of route number one is 20 feet off the deck, right above a sloped, polished piece of rock. We eyeball it, and decide that we’re not interested in breaking our ankles during the first week of our trip. There’s a reason why nobody else is climbing these routes. Instead, we hike through the park, allowing the wind to move us forward.
Remnants of people who lived here long ago still litter the region. There are carvings in the rock, paintings on the walls, arrow heads, and pottery throughout the park. After two hours of searching, we find a little cave about a half mile away from the parking lot with pictographs hidden inside.
To see them, you have to lay on your back and scoot inside to the wide opening of the cave. There are 8 pictographs hidden there, and they’re all variations of the mask. They’re estimated to be about 3,000-years old.
Franklin Mountain State Park
The next day, we have a short respite from the wind in Franklin Mountain State park, where there were northern facing peaks to protect us from the sky’s rage. In a few weeks, the trails will be occupied by the local rattlesnakes who warm themselves on the rock. We spotted a falcon flying over the crag, which is probably its home. So, things do live here. But there isn’t a whole lot of life. And most of the life that exists here seems to hibernate in a protected place, shielded from the wind and sun.
Franklin Mountain State Park is already providing a better vibe. It’s pet-friendly, and nobody else is at the crag. We climb a mix of sport and trad routes, creating our own adventures as we go. And, for a moment, something clicks. I realize that when you’ve removed yourself from the fratty gyms, climbing is about exploration instead of human power. Or maybe it’s both. But the exploration is what I love about it. You have to make your way up the wall without knowing if or how you’ll be able to get down. And, eventually, you find a way. Or you die. So far, we’ve been lucky enough to do the former.
El Paso and Ciudad Juarez
You can see Juarez from el Paso, which is known for drug and human trafficking. The US is buying, so Juarez is selling. Mexico and Texas are separated by a river that many immigrants ford in pursuit of a better life. And, if they make it across, they still have to scale the tall barbed wire or metal paneled walls to get to…..here. Texas. The state where only the prickliest plants are strong enough to thrive – where there are hundreds of miles of drilling fields, tumbleweeds, and truck-loving people. The mixture of the heat and the wind is enough to make anybody mad here. But there seems to be the promise of possibility here, too. Still, you’d have to be pretty desperate to leave your home for this.
I’ve never been to Juarez, but Tommy tells me that it’s like a different planet. Once you cross the border, the businesses are different. The buildings are made with tin roofs. The electrical wires are piled together and plastered to the walls (and they’re probably not grounded). It’s amazing what a fence can do.
In 2021, migrant encounters at the US-Mexico border were at a 21-year high. Over 1.5 million people crossed the border. Many immigrants left home because of agricultural devastation, and hurricanes. Violence continues to play a part in immigration. Border Patrol reported 200,000 encounters in July alone. And 47% of those encounters resulted in expulsion. Oh, America! The melting pot! The land of the free (if you’re white, and you have money).
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